Walks forth bright Snowdrop, clad in green and white,
Which simple beauties every eye delight,
Till Violet scents the gale and Bluebirds sing;
Come now the Windflower and the Tulip tall,
And Naiad Lily of the lowly vale,
The lover's flower, which is true passion pale;
Up, next, Narcissus springs, more fair than all,
Reflecting in the brook, that purls anigh,
Her image, and, like Echo, hastes to die;
Then the sweet lady Rose, at Zephyr's call,